The Evil Spirit leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Clearly, using power far beyond that of an ordinary person came at a cost; he had to consume the strength of his own soul. But fortunately, he had dealt with the most troublesome reporter. As long as Peter could not escape, no one would discover him.
He lowered his head and glanced at the left side of his body. His own power and the curse were locked in a tug-of-war: whenever he expended soul energy, the curse gained ground. The Evil Spirit's control over this body was growing weaker and weaker.
The good news was that the curse on this body seemed to conflict with the spike that the person who had attacked him earlier had driven into it. These black magic spells were incompatible and constantly worked against each other.
In other words, if he waited a little longer, until the curse on his left arm spread to his chest, that evil cursed artifact—the awl—might fail. Then, he could switch bodies.
He wanted that big man's body. It should make him even stronger. But first, he had something else to do: replenish his soul energy, lest the curse in his left arm killed him before it destroyed the awl.
That was right. It was not that the Evil Spirit did not want to guard the corpse. After using that move, he had become weaker than the greatly strengthened curse in his left arm. If he did not find a way to bolster himself, he would be devoured.
The way to replenish soul energy was simple: kill people. And they did not necessarily have to be living people; the people in the spiritual world would do as well. He had already summoned them into the real world, so even if